


It's Not Pretend or Role-Playing:  Annie and Abed

by mek20019



Category: Community (TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-21
Updated: 2014-03-09
Packaged: 2017-12-30 02:27:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1012956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mek20019/pseuds/mek20019
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Formerly "Inter-room Relations 303" (which is now the first chapter's title).</p><p>An exploration of Annie Edison and Abed Nadir would be in a relationship, because it's a pairing that doesn't get enough attention on Community.</p><p>Second chapter uploaded 9 March 2014.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Inter-room Relations 303

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beginning after Troy moved out, we see a different dynamic in the apartment he left behind.

Greendale may not have announced the valedictorian yet, but that didn’t stop Annie from preparing herself.  She had to remind herself that she’d be happy if Shirley edged her out.  This task was made a lot easier while Annie wrote the first draft of her graduation speech.  The classes, dioramas, and activities she did for extra credit were easily overshadowed by the love she found in her study group, her community of friends, and around the magical table in the library.  The speech was saturated with those beautiful memories—Britta’s interruptions about unjust current affairs; Troy’s growth from stereotypical jock to a compassionate, enthusiastic man of integrity; Pierce dressed as a wizard (she hoped the cookie wand mention would make the audience laugh); Winger speeches and how he represented Shirley in the court room against his former co-worker; and some more mainstream pop culture references (enough so that the audience would get them even if Abed would be dismayed).

As the page length and amount of purple ink increased, Annie’s mind wandered.  She mentally relived every crazy outfit Dean Pelton wore as he fabulously entered the library.  Her shoulders tensed remembering Chang crawling in the air vents and as she hated the name “Annie’s Boobs.”  Annie hated that stupid monkey.  The great moments swirled in her mind more frequently and for a longer duration:  Shirley beaming when she cut the ribbon to her dream store; the strategic shot fired by Pierce, who saved Greendale from City College during the paintball contest; Britta being sisterly and giving practical advice during the move to Troy and Abed’s; winning the debate by kissing Jeff Winger [she still hasn’t decided which she was happier about—the kiss or winning].

Slowly, she considered her own growth and changes.  Granted, she stood up for herself against her parents and was making it on her own through community college, but she still could see her own development from her years at Greendale.  She hadn’t ever laughed this much.  Her childhood was filled with stress headaches and high school destroyed by perfection pressure and an Adderall addiction.  Yet she smirked whenever a new episode of _Troy and Abed in the Morning_ happened and she LOVED to co-host.  A knock came from the door, followed by, “Cougar Town in three minutes.”

Annie sank in the chair beside Abed, who was perched in his matching seat and who frankly couldn’t calm down.  Abed waited months for the fifth season premiere of Courteney Cox’s current show.  They had marathon-ed the previous seasons all last week.  Her focus was divided though.  Annie’s mind continued to consider her last few years.  She just felt freer, freer to be whoever she wanted to be.  Maybe I needed room to breathe in my life.  Suddenly, she recalled the words, “You need more immaturity in your life.”  Her mind divided as the weight of this realization slammed into her thoughts; she stared agape at Abed.  Thankfully, he hadn’t noticed.  The cul-de-sac crew was pouring wine and Abed wasn’t blinking.  Annie took a few breaths to fight the panic brewing.  With a slight, dismissive headshake, she forced herself to look at the television.  However she still didn’t know what was going on in the show, because she was repeating her new-found mantra of, “I don’t like-like Abed.  I don’t like-like Abed.”  The episode ended and Abed immediately launched into an in-depth analysis and rationalizing what each and every character should do in the next episode as well as the new season.  Annie politely nodded.  They both went to their respective rooms.

 

 

The dim glow of her desk lamp annoyed Annie now, but she kept it on.  Going to bed was not a viable option with her thoughts scampering quickly.  She sighed and whispered her mantra.  “You wouldn’t need to tell yourself you don’t like-like Abed if you actually didn’t like-like Abed,” another part of her snottily interjected.  “Troy and Britta didn’t work out,” a different part offered.  “What about Jeff?” one wondered.  “What **_about_** Jeff?” one retorted and that seemed exasperated at the mere suggestion.  Annie had to admit to herself that many of her best developments started with Abed.  She couldn’t be happier to be out of that awful, unsafe neighborhood (even if the apartment felt off without Troy there now).  Abed had been the one kind enough to offer for her to move in.  “Troy didn’t even look like he knew about it,” she thought.  But more than that the entire study group had heard Annie express doubts about hospital administration; Abed was the one that suggested she change it to Forensics.  “It’s as if he knows what I need and want more than I do.”  That thought truly took her by surprise and fundamentally shook her.  She didn’t want anyone to have that power, because shouldn’t she know what she needs?  The sarcastic voice shot back, “Then why don’t you?  Abed sees you for all that you can be and encourages you to embrace it.”  No part of her had a response to dispel that claim.  Mentally exhausted, she began to move the decorative pillows off her bed.  A flash flicker of her memory reminded her that Abed also knew on move-in day how she would place these pillows on her bed (organized by color instead of size).  She groaned, crawled into bed, and resignedly admitted she liked how much Abed knows about her.

This tortured-existence continued for a fortnight before someone acknowledged it.  As the group left the library, Britta grabbed her elbow from behind.  “Okay, what’s up?” Britta demanded in a hushed tone.  Annie uncharacteristically deflated and looked disheartened in response.  Britta quickly suggested going to Señor Kevin’s after class.  The two sugar-rimmed strawberry margaritas appeared and the conversation began.  “He made my life soup!” Annie exclaimed.  
“I’m going to need something more than that.”  
Annie propped her head on her elbows in complete embarrassment and frustration.  “Abed made my life soup.”

“I thought Abed had a meal plan?  Or did he get rid of it when he moved into the apartment?”  Annie just groaned and sank her head lower, onto the table.  “Okay, Annie, this isn’t about actual soup.  But you’ve got to give me a little bit more than what you’re saying right now.”

Annie sighs.  “I was thinking about our first study group day.”  
“The day Abed quoted _The Breakfast Club_?”  
“Yes.  In any event, I was replaying everything—getting invited as an afterthought, Jeff making it all up just for you, Shirley threatening me about a jukebox, and the first Winger speech.  And Abed made my life soup.”  
“…I’m almost with you, but I’m still wondering about the soup.”  
“Jeff said something like, ‘Ask for salt and Abed will give you soup, because it’s just better.’  And Abed has given me soup.”  
“Okay.  Okay, but—I’m confused as to why that upsets you.”  
Annie simply gave up dancing around what she did not want to say, because these couples of weeks were just hell.  “I like Abed.  I really like Abed, but we live together and there’s the dating-in-the-group thing and what if I’m misreading things and he doesn’t like me?  And even if he liked me, would dating really be something I want?  Now that I like him I have no idea how to act around him.  I mean, he made my life soup—I love living in that apartment; I listened to him and now I actually love what I’m studying and can’t wait to find a career in forensics.  And it’s more than that!”  Annie sighed again.  “It’s just…I asked for friendship and he gave me so much more.  He doesn’t even realize it!”  She grabbed her margarita and took her first gulp.

Britta smirked, “Sorry sorry sorry!  That’s just really cute and I don’t mean it in a patronizing way.  You just, well, you didn’t act this nervously with Vaughn or Jeff or anyone really.  Plus I can see it.”  
“See what?”  
“You and Abed.  It’s not the most obvious of couples, but you both are willing to push yourselves and I saw how much you understood him during that nervous breakdown Christmas he had.  I mean, we all wanted to help, and did, but he let you and Troy stay on his Christmas adventure or whatever he called it the whole time.”  She took a drink of her melty margarita as Annie contemplated that observation.  “You probably don’t want advice and I’m here if you just want to talk.  But here you go—the group will survive *anything*, Abed knows whether he likes you like that or not, and if you want to date him, tell him so.  The worst he can say is No, right?  And if he does, we’ll come back her for two-for-one tequila shots.”  This idea made Annie look up from her glass and smile.

Annie decided she’d take Britta’s advice.  In fact, the three margaritas almost made her blurt it to Abed when she arrived home that night.  But some things should only be done sober.

 

 

 

She waited until they were both done with classes that Tuesday.  Maybe she should have done it sooner, but she had a cycle of paranoia and bravery and, finally, bravery won out.  She emerged from her room and convinced herself she was ready for the consequences.  Luckily, she found Abed menially distracted by a rerun of Cougar Town on TBS.  She perched lightly on the arm of his chair.  He didn’t look up, but said in a steady voice, “You haven’t done that since Troy moved out.”  She didn’t respond verbally.  Annie pretended to be engaged with the television.  Seventeen minutes later, she found her right hand entwined with his left one and decided to remain silent.  Annie didn’t know whether he acted first or she had, but she knew the result and was too nervous to disturb it.  “But you have to tell him.  If you want more of this handholding and more _than_ handholding, you have to tell him.”  Annie bit her lip and glanced down at the stoic and calm man beside her.  She exhaled and made her final decision.

“Hey, I have to talk to you about something,” Annie mentioned.  
“The Dreamatorium is under my bed and I will only use it under your supervision like we promised,” Abed spoke in a panic.  
“No, no.  Well, I mean, I’m grateful, but that’s not what I meant.”  
Abed looked perplexed but thankfully didn’t release her hand.  Annie took that as an omen.  She swallowed her pride and doubt.  Annie breathed deeply.  “Abed.”  They met each other’s eyes.  “Abed, I like you.  I can’t exactly explain to you every reason why or when I noticed it, but I do.  I like you.  You’re a great friend and an even better person—and I don’t want to ruin our friendship at all—but I like you.  I understand if this is weird, but,” she paused, slightly unsure how to continue.  “But…but I don’t want it to be weird.  I want you to like me like that too.”  Even Annie was surprised by her forthrightness.  She was happy that she finally spoke her truth though.  As cliché as it was, a weight lifted off her shoulder—until she realized Abed would respond.

He hadn’t let go of her hand but she really had taken Abed by surprise.  Of course he thought Annie was a fantastic person.   Out of the group, he may have thought of Annie too highly—she was compassionate and driven and owned up to her mistakes.  He had implied that he could not hate Annie during the most recent Christmas and he had meant it.  Others in the group may have been his foil or his outrageous friend or his role model or have humbled him or his therapist, but Annie had always been…well, just there—in the best way.  A possible co-anchor, but she had stood beside him (and Troy) during his worst Christmas ever.  Plus he had a sneaking suspicion that she threw on a reindeer sweater and made the group come singing Christmas carols to cheer him up.  And that’s not even mentioning his sometimes-dreams of her as his Leia or him as her Don Draper.  Even he admitted, only rarely, that he wanted those to be more than dreams based on fictional characters.  But…did he want to date Annie Edison?  The group survived Britta and Troy’s breakup but he wasn’t entirely sure how.  Does he trust that would happen again if the worst was to happen?  His heart sank but not for the reason he predicted.  He suddenly realized that he didn’t want the worst to happen—he liked holding Annie’s hand; he liked her perching on his television-viewing chair; he liked being her break from perfectionism even though he loved her ambition all the same; and he loved her innocence and understated inner-strength.  Abed’s mind flooded with dozens of quotes from movies including some generic romantic-comedies Annie forced him to watch.  Yet they were all inadequate.  He didn’t know what to say and the silence stretched on and on.  He loathed that he didn’t have the tools to reach out to someone with whom he wanted to connect.  He focused his eyes on their intertwined hands, biding his time while frantically searching for a real response.

Annie’s jaw clenched even though her left thumb continued making light circles on Abed’s hand.  The tension killed her.  He wasn’t even making eye contact anymore!  She was expecting _something_ :  a “Here’s looking at you, kid” as a kiss-off; a brief but polite explanation that he doesn’t think of her like that and valued their friendship too much; or his favorite standard reference in Han Solo with “I know.”  Yet he just motionlessly sat there.  A familiar anger, the one that fuels classic Annie Edison Freak-Outs, began to foment.  Here she is, being vulnerable and being honest, and he does _NOTHING_.  _NOTHING!  Not a damn thing!_ The rage quickened until it suddenly vanished when Abed gently grabbed her from the arm of the chair and placed her on his lap.  Their normal height difference was negated and she was starring him directly in his chocolate brown, baby-deer-like eyes.  He lightly and deliberately set his left hand on her neck; it stretched and his thumb was smoothly tilting her head slightly to the right.  Their eye contact didn’t break and intensified.  Annie finally realized what was happening and leaned forward to close the gap between them. 

The kiss was familiar yet entirely different.  He wasn’t Don Draper or Han Solo or a vampire-version of himself; this was Abed.  And it was amazing.  It was soup when she asked for salt.

For once Abed couldn’t care less about Cougar Town.  Or television and movies and pop culture.  A relief flooded his mind—he correctly interpreted his feelings, acknowledged them, acted on them, but most importantly acted on them as himself; he could connect not through media but as himself.  Yet he knew Annie somehow had already known that.  She had once told him, “you’ll never be alone” and he realized he wanted to not be alone with her.

 

 

On Wednesday, the rest of the study group (with the exception of Britta) was confused as to why Abed had taken the typically-vacant seat between Jeff and Annie.


	2. Physical Attraction Analysis

“Don’t take this as I’m jealous or bitter—because I’m not—but I don’t get you and Abed,” Jeff stated.  
Annie was leaning on the locker besides his and found herself pouting. She realized she wanted all of the group’s approval. “Well, what do you mean?”  
“You live together, study together, and now dating? There’s no break,” Jeff explained.  
“So?”  
“So,” Jeff cautiously continued, “too much time with anyone is a strain—just keep that in mind. Even Disney princesses get annoyed with their woodland-creature pals.”  
Annie wavered. She had wanted to say something combative to destroy whatever argument Jeff was making, but he did have a point; one that she had actually worried about herself. Still, she pressed on, “But other than that, the time issue, what do you think of Abed and I dating?”  
Jeff closed his locker and faced her. “You’re happy; he’s happy; I’m happy for you. And I promise I won’t do a fake body switch thing with him if you break up.”  
Annie gasped. “Jeff, too soon and what if Britta walked by?” Jeff shrugged. She lightly hit his arm, hoping to get him to answer.  
“What? I already promised him that too. My chest would look awful in your little cardigans,” he responded.  
Annie rolled her eyes as they idly walked away. “But you’re good with it?” she inquired.  
“Yes, Annie, I wouldn’t lie. Well, I would. But not about—I’m being honest. Yes, I’m good with this.”  
Annie beamed. “Thanks Jeff!” as she pounced on him for a hug.  
“Yeah, yeah, kid, let’s just get to class.”

 

Abed was waiting at her locker after forensics ended. “He’s just so tall!” she gleefully thought as she reached up to kiss him on the cheek. “Hi, how was your day?” Abed kept his hand on the small of her back. She smiled as she started switching notebooks to the locker. He started gently circling, massaging her lower back and Annie completely forgot which textbook she needed.  
“Good. Had class then worked into the library until you were done.”  
“Oh, were you studying for your test next week?”  
“No, I started a new screenplay.”  
“Oooh, that’s exciting!” Annie hesitated. “It’s not one of those Telling-the-Future ones is it? Shirley would hate that.”  
Abed chuckled and replied, “No.”  
“Is the Dean having a breakdown?”  
There was a second of quiet as Abed pondered. “Maybe. But it’s not a documentary again either.” Annie laughed and closed her locker, hoping she had the right work. Abed reach out and took the additional books from her arms. “I’ll tell you about it at dinner.” His arm slipped off her waist and clasped her hand as they walked home.

 

Abed had been excitedly prattling on about his script ideas—something in the realm of science fiction but Abed didn’t pointedly categorize it as such and insisted it was a “cross-genre phenomenon”—for 37 minutes. Annie smiled and nodded despite not really knowing who Starbuck was and why she was so awesome. Annie’s homework was already done as Abed insisted she work on it while he cooked. Between non-Community study groups and *singing* Troy and Abed Skyping Sessions!, Annie and Abed only had dinner together about twice a week and then date nights some weekends. She didn’t mind cooking but was also glad Abed did tonight—Abed’s buttered noodles were somehow just better than hers.  
She realized the background noise had ceased. Annie looked up, caught off guard. “Sorry! Your movie sounds great but I got lost in thought.” She continued sheepishly, “Your buttered noodles are better than mine,” as she gestured to her empty plate.  
Abed shrugged and replied, “I like yours better, but I wanted to cook tonight.” Abed looked down briefly and then made eye contact with Annie. “I shouldn’t have gone on about the movie so long. Sorry.”  
“No, I’m sorry. I do think it’s—”  
Abed interrupted and suggested, “Let’s stop or else we’ll keep apologizing all night.” Annie smiled knowing he was right. Neither of them was overly-familiar with romantic relationships, so they both fell into a habit of over-apologizing to keep each other content. Abed stood up confidently, “Besides it’s time for dessert,” he said as he gathered both his and her used dishes, kissed the top of her head, and returned quickly.  
“Abed, you didn’t have to…” Annie trailed off as she read the cake’s frosting: Happy 1 Month. Annie’s jaw dropped. “I didn’t know. I completely forgot.” Apologetic words fell out of her mouth. “Abed, I’m so —”  
Abed clasped her hand while saying, “Don’t say ‘sorry.’” His smile relaxed her some.  
Annie fell back heavily to the chair’s back. “I just feel bad about it.”  
“Well, don’t do that either.” Abed began making circles on her hand with his hand and continued gently, “I didn’t do this to make you sad. I did it to make you smile and to mark an ordinary-but-great day. Besides you’ve been buried in reading and I only realized the month thing this week. Okay?”  
“Yes,” Annie responded and put her free hand on top of theirs. “I love it.” She leaned over the table and kissed him suddenly. After she pulled back, she asked, “What kind is it?”  
Abed filled with relief and smirked. “Chocolate. I’ll go grab some plates.” He was gone and back before she could protest.

 

He wouldn’t let her help clean dishes either. “Abed!” she mockingly scolded him. She even tried pouting, but he told her to go relax. Annie changed into dark purple flannel pajama pants and a sleep t-shirt that fits a little tightly—a very conscious decision on her part for. Annie was mischievous when she wandered back to the kitchen.  
Abed was still over the sink when she crept up silently and hugged him from behind. “Tonight’s been great. Happy one month, Abed,” she said to his back. She felt him laugh. “Done with dishes yet?”  
His wrists lifted out of the half-full sink which was littered with cake remnants and a film over the water from the butter. “No, almost though.” He reached for the dishcloth.  
“Well,” she began coyly. Her hands dropped to both sides of his waist. She stretched up on her toes and deviously whispered in his ear, “too bad.” In that instant, she turned him around to face her and pressed her entire body against his. They both reacted within a moment: her left hand was grasping the back of his head and pulling him down to her level; her right hand delicately traced where his neck and t-shirt met; his hands pushed at the small of her back, keeping her close. They paused and their eyes locked on each other. Abed moved first again, pressing his lips onto hers. He could feel her head tilt and the smile that formed as the kiss ended. That habit drove him crazy; he adored it. His left hand remained weighted on her back, but the right moved to her neck, tracing her collarbone as the kisses became beautifully jumbled. Minutes passed. And to think I didn’t want her in the kitchen! he thought. Abed abruptly-yet-kindly created space between them.  
“Annie, you crafty jackrabbit!”  
“What?” Annie asked innocently, her eyes wide.  
Abed raised his left eyebrow and leveled Annie a look. “Oh, so you had no intention of distracting me from this task at hand?” He accused and gestured to the sink.  
Annie gasped in an exaggerated fashion, “Never!” She matched his facial expression and asked, “Oh, so you don’t want to make out with me right now?” Abed didn’t respond. Abed’s face had changed and his focus was far away. Annie softened and put her hand on his forearm. “Abed?”  
“Cool. Cool cool cool.,” Abed excitedly whispered as he refocused on the dishes. “Cool. Cool. Cool.” Annie, was watching Abed, vaguely heard the sink water rush down the drain and feared that she has broken Abed again like when they had the day in the Dreamatorium. “Cool.”  
“Abed?”  
“Yes, Annie?” Abed said as he turned around with a towel moving between his hands.  
“Um—what was that?”  
“Oh, ‘that?’” Abed smirked. “That was me planning out how the rest of our evening will go—considering the dishes are done now.”  
Annie quickly glanced at the full dish rack and in that second Abed tossed the towel back over his shoulder and grabbed her by the waist. Abed turned and maneuvered her against the counter, looking intensely in her eyes. Annie laughed and lifted herself onto the counter; they are at equal eye-level to each other, a rarity given their height difference. Abed’s hands were already traveling softly up and down Annie’s thighs. She leaned forward, grabbed Abed’s hands in hers, and placed her forehead against his. “Thank you for dinner.”  
They kissed once, gently and sweetly. Annie broke away slightly, unsure of how to continue; what started as mischievous or feisty for them always ended up cute and short-lived. She could practically see Winger rolling his eyes. But is there something wrong with sweet? I like sw—  
Annie’s thoughts were abruptly interrupted. Abed’s hands had freed themselves from hers and instead were framing Annie’s face, pulling it towards him. This agreed-disconnect from “sweet” was an unspoken trigger for both of them. Annie’s legs wrapped around Abed’s waist; Abed’s left hand stayed on her jawline, guiding, not allowing their lips to part longer than two seconds for air and even that seemed to annoy him; his right hand flitted sporadically on her hip but she was conscious of it wandering under her shirt, daring itself to go further up each time. As for her, she was surprised that her left hand had hooked into his pants belt-loop, pulling him closer and closer to her and that her right hand mimicked Abed’s left—it wouldn’t leave Abed’s nape of the neck.  
Twenty minutes of making-out, following a pattern of curious, then frenzied, then calmed, then frenzied again (repeat) happened, exploring each other more as time ticked on. Abed cleared his throat, which brought Annie back to reality—a reality where they were both shirtless; a reality where that Annie looked down and saw her hands in the midst of unclasping Abed’s belt. She didn’t move, and Abed looked as shocked as she now felt. Abed stood up a bit straighter, lightly brought his hand to her chin and guided it up, and kissed her gently again like the one that started this whole exchange. “Come on, it’s time for bed.”


End file.
